


I'm The Motorcycle In The Story, Right?

by Skyson



Series: Heroes and Their Vehicles [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Easy Mission Gone Wrong, F/M, Healing, Hydra Ruins The Day Again, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Indian Motorcycles, Injury, Kissing, Loss, Secret Projects, Secret Relationship, Sex in a Car, not Grant Ward friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Skyepilot, a story about a woman, a motorcycle, and a man in a suit :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm The Motorcycle In The Story, Right?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



> I apparently don't know how to write a small fic...sigh. Also, some certain Tumblr conversations got me thinking about how Skye and Coulson would probably have a competition about who can get who off the fastest, so I had to include a bit of that in here as well. ;)

Coulson and Skye wanted to keep the new development in their relationship on the down low, for a while. They managed to be very professional during the day and during ops, and so far Skye hasn’t gotten caught sneaking into the Director’s quarters at night. Coulson was pretty sure he gave themselves away the next time they'd run into Ward and his men, though. It appeared that he had formed yet another splinter cell of the remains of Hydra.

Coulson was back in his office at the Playground, running comms and watching through satellite footage and the camera on Skye's helmet. Skye and Hunter had been sent out on what was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission. Unfortunately, Ward had been after the object as well, and really _did not_ want SHIELD to get its hands on it.

"Skye, you need to get out of there _now_. The situation is becoming critical, you are in a highly populated area - "

" - And we all know Ward will use that to his advantage, yes, Director, we know," Skye replied tersely, glancing behind her has she zigged and zagged through traffic. "Leading him out of the city now," She informed him needlessly - she knew he was watching the satellite feed following the course of her bike down the interstate.

"You need to - Hunter! 5 o'clock!" Coulson interrupted himself with the warning, and watched tersely as Hunter, who was riding passenger behind Skye, twisted carefully to point his Icer toward the incoming threat. He flipped a switch near the barrel with his thumb before firing into the front grill of the approaching SUV, sending a localized EMP straight into the vehicle and causing it to slide to a halt.

"Thanks, Boss," Hunter said warily, returning to a two-handed hold on Skye's waist as she gunned the engine.

"I lost sight of Ward! Coulson?" Skye's question was immediately understood, thank God, because she was currently trying not to get her or Hunter killed as she sped around the other cars.

"He's..." Coulson hesitated as he quickly scanned through the feeds he had on the screen. "Dammit!" Skye knew that meant Coulson had lost him as well, and she gritted her teeth.

"We need to get out of the open, Hunter," She warned, knowing they were sitting ducks on the back of her bike. They were wearing Kevlar, of course, but they hadn't expected to need full tactical gear for this mission.

"Knew we should've brought the SUV," Hunter muttered, swallowing and holding on a little tighter as Skye cut across two lanes to take the next exit.

"Take the next right," Coulson told them, scouting ahead as quickly as he could, "and then a left. It's a service road that runs along the interstate and has far less traffic."

"Tell me when you get eyes on Ward." Skye replied, following his directions. It didn’t take him much longer.

"May, I need you at Skye's location _now_ ," Coulson demanded quickly, his words running together almost as one. "Skye - "

She knew, though, because it was suddenly happening right in front of her.

A tractor trailer that they had been gaining on suddenly veered sharply to the left, pushing a sedan off the road and straddling across all three lanes. The driver's side window was down, and she could see Ward looking calm as ever, just waiting. That's all he had to do, because Skye was going too fast to stop and there was nowhere to go to avoid him.

" _Hunter_!" Skye warned, edging as close to the grassy median as she dared.

"Aw, _fuck_ this is gonna hurt," Hunter complained, just before launching himself off the back of the bike, curling up and landing hard in the grass.

The bike wobbled and Skye managed to get it going toward the space between the wheels of the tractor trailer before it tipped. She immediately let go of the machine, trying to tuck her limbs in close as she tumbled across the asphalt after it. Sparks and pieces of metal and fiberglass flew apart around her, some bouncing off of her helmet with loud pangs. The bike slid right under the truck and continued further for a few feet before finally coming to a stop.

Her helmet bounced hard against the pavement, making a cracking sound that seemed even louder than the wind rushing in her ears.

When her eyes refocused, the smell of fuel and burnt rubber invaded her senses and everything sounded muffled, even the crackling voice in her ear. She squinted, picking up gunfire and boots scrambling on the pavement. She shook her head slightly, trying to get her bearings, and quickly took stock. Everything _hurt_ , but she could move without any sharp stings of pain, so she took that as a good sign, and a miracle of the protective equipment Fitz had made for her.

"Hunter," She tried into the comms, her voice rough from the smoke that hovered around her. She'd ended up underneath the tractor trailer, and watched as a pair of boots walked confidently toward the remains of her bike. _Ward_. She tried to get her gun from the holster on her thigh, and then realized she was grabbing at nothing. She must have lost it somewhere... _there_. Her Icer was in the middle of the road, abandoned between her and where Hunter had landed. Figures.

"Skye. Skye. Come in. May is on her way." Coulson's voice was suddenly in her ear; it had been there the whole time, but everything was still ringing, and she could barely make out his words. She shook her head again. "May will be there in two. Sit tight. Hunter, do you have eyes on Skye?"

"I don't - dammit," More shots were fired, and Skye realized Hunter was defending himself somewhere out there in the middle of the grass, one Icer against who knows how many of Ward's people... "Got him!" Hunter exclaimed. "Okay, I see two more Hydra guys taking cover inside the cab. Ward got out when she crashed, disappeared on the other side of the truck."

"Do you see Skye?" Coulson repeated, sounding like he wasn't trying to lose his shit. Skye knew he was probably losing his shit.

"I don't... I don't see her, I don't see her." Hunter admitted, sounding angry. "Dammit, I lost her under that damn truck! She's not responding on Comms and I can't get to her Coulson."

"Sit tight and find cover, Hunter."

" _Ward is over there_ \- "

"Do you have what we came for?" Coulson demanded suddenly, and Skye couldn't help but smile to herself. (It hurt.) _Good work, AC, focus on the job at hand. Prioritize. Don't lose your cool just yet._

"I - yes, though I have no idea what shape it's in after that landing," Hunter informed him.

"As long as it's not in the hands of Hydra, we can worry about that later." Coulson replied. "60 seconds, Hunter. May's almost there."

"Skye! I know you're around here somewhere!" Ward called out loudly, and she heard Hunter’s inhalation of breath. "Come on, I saw you hit the dirt," He spoke almost consolingly, "That had to have felt none too good, I'm sure. I'll make you a deal!"

Hunter muttered some choice words under his breath about what Ward could do with said deal, and Skye chuckled and then groaned.

"Give me what I want, and I'll let you and your boy toy go." He paused. "In whatever pieces of you that are left."

"Oy!" Hunter exclaimed quietly, "Why don't you come round front where I can _shoot you_."

Ward's boots slowly turned toward the truck, and then started approaching. Skye breathed shallowly and froze, palms turned outward. She had no idea if she had the strength to use her powers against Ward, at this point, but she would sure has hell try if it became necessary.

"Skye? Come in, Skye. Are you there? May is 45 seconds out, just hold on," Coulson was still talking in her ear, and she smiled slowly, closing her eyes again very briefly.

This was going to hurt.

"Skye." She opened her eyes, and Ward was looking right at her now, and she knew the shadow of the trailer wasn't hiding her anymore. He leaned his head to the side slightly as he approached her slowly. "Are you alive?" He wondered, only curiosity in his voice. "I'd be a bit disappointed if this is how you go out, honestly."

He pulled his gun, but kept it trained to the ground. She gritted her teeth and flexed her fingers.

"If you _are_ alive, I'm impressed. And I'm quite sure it'd be difficult to use your powers now, wouldn't it?" He asked, still in that bright tone of voice. She squeezed her eyes closed for another short moment, forcing the pain away. "It's okay," He said, cloyingly sweet, "It was stupid of Coulson to think he could send out the _tech support_ on field missions, powers or no powers."

She gathered every ounce of remaining energy she could, waited until she could see the glint in his eye, and pushed out against him. He flew back a couple feet, landing hard on his back. But it was nothing incredibly drastic at all, which was mildly disappointing. More importantly, though, he'd lost his grip on his gun, and that _had_ gone flying too far out of his reach.

"Dammit, Skye, that was just _dumb_ of you." He grumbled as he got to his feet, brushing his fingers against the road burn on his jaw. "That was everything you had left, wasn't it? _Rookie mistake_."

"20 seconds Skye," Coulson sounded anxious, but probably not as anxious as he would sound if he really knew what was going on right now. If he was still getting satellite imagery, he could probably only see Ward approaching the truck. "You pushed him away, didn't you? Good, Skye, just hold him off a little longer, May's almost there," Coulson sounded so _proud_ of her.

Coulson.

Skye gritted her teeth again, trying to shift into a more defensive position. Normally, she would confidently take on Ward hand-to-hand, but now...now she knew better. She didn't have the strength to fist-fight with him.

"Ah-ah," Ward chided roughly, grabbing the front of her jacket and dragging her out from under the truck. She whimpered from the pain and he smiled, dragging her around to the front where he assumed Hunter would be able to see.

" _Fuck_ ," Hunter's whisper assured her that he could see them.

"Gun!" Ward demanded, and one of his lackeys immediately tossed one out to him. He caught it, dropped Skye to the ground on her side, and pressed the muzzle of the weapon against her neck between her helmet and Kevlar vest.

"You shoot, I shoot!" Ward threatened, and Skye caught him looking in more places than one. He didn't know exactly where Hunter was.

"May should take out the cab," Hunter was saying into the Comms, "There's at least two of his guys still in there. I've got the object, but Ward has Skye, and she's not moving."

She wanted to tell them she was still here, she was okay, she was just tired, but she knew by now that her mic wasn't working. She realized her stilted vision also had to due with the cracked visor on her helmet (and more than likely a concussion), and figured the brunt of the damage must've happened when she slammed her head onto the pavement during the crash.

"Skye, if you can hear me, try and get away from the cab." Coulson said urgently, and she sighed heavily. He was always expecting so much from her, sometimes it really took a superhuman effort...

She grunted as she forced a wave toward Ward again, only making him stumble back. It was enough for her to roll further away from him though, and he growled something in annoyance and moved to come after her, but then the cab of the truck was being peppered with bullets, large bullets, the kind of bullets the Quinjets shot...

Ward dove for cover, landing on top of her and rolling with her even further from the mess. That hurt. Her head felt like fried eggs.

No. Scrambled eggs. That was it.

The sound of an Icer went off, strangely close, and Ward's heavy weight was on top of her again, limp. She groaned as he was forcefully shoved away from her, and her visor was slid open, suddenly revealing a slightly-more-clear image of Hunter's worried expression.

"She's alive, but I don't know how much," Hunter said gravely, and it was so weird. His lips moved, and his voice was muffled, but then in the comms it was clear as it had been.

Scrambled eggs.

"Get her in the plane, _carefully._ " Coulson was still speaking into her ear, too, and his voice made her feel better.

"What do we do with Ward?" Hunter asked, grimacing in pain as he carefully stood with Skye in his arms bridal style.

May was briefly in her field of vision, and then gone again, and Hunter managed to get himself and her into the jet and strapped in. She felt him put straps over her legs and her torso, holding her completely immobile, and if she had any strength to have a panic attack she probably would have. As it was, she blinked lazily at him.

"We're gonna let Simmons take care of getting that helmet off you, okay?" Hunter promised her, and she'd never heard such emotion in his voice before, not since Bobbi...

"Strap him in and make sure he doesn't move an inch," Hearing May's stern voice sent a wave of relief over Skye, and she knew she'd be okay. She heard two more shots of an Icer, and Hunter mumbling obscenities under his breath, before she felt the plane lurch and go airborne.

"Skye, stay with me Skye," Coulson's voice was fading, was he okay? Maybe her earpiece was going out too.

"Eggs..." She mumbled, catching a glimpse of Hunter once more before completely blacking out.

 

 

**< ><><> **

He wasn’t even going to pretend he wasn’t worried, as he waited in the hangar next to Simmons and Mack. He’d already told Simmons about Skye’s known symptoms, and Mack was ready to help take Ward to the Vault, so they stood in silence as they waited for the Quinjet to land and open it’s loading door.

Hunter and May were making their way down the door even as it lowered, and Coulson hurried to meet them, all of his focus toward getting Skye to the medical facilities. She was still wearing all of her riding gear, and her helmet, so it was hard to tell what condition she was in.

“She started convulsing a little on the way back,” Hunter wasn’t breathing correctly, and the way he held himself even after Coulson took Skye from him informed them that he’d bruised, or possibly cracked, some ribs.

“How long and how many times?” Simmons asked, helping support Skye’s helmeted head as Coulson cradled her in his arms. She was so still, and felt so light, it made him feel like someone poured ice through his veins.

“I don’t – not very long. A few times. She almost brought the plane down, once,” Hunter informed them, glancing warily toward May.

“You did good, Hunter. Go get yourself checked out. Mack will help me with Ward.” May told him, then looked at Mack, and the two disappeared back up the ramp into the Quinjet.

Coulson shut everything out as he looked at what little of Skye he could see through her open visor. He made it to the med bay purely from muscle memory, moving as carefully as possible when he maneuvered Skye onto the bed in the isolated room.

“Hunter,” Simmons began, and the younger man shook his head and leaned carefully against the glass near the door as he closed it behind them.

“Take care of her first. I’m standing.” He replied, and she nodded, giving Coulson a serious look.

“Can you help me?” She asked urgently, and he knew that if he didn’t pull himself together, she would kick him out of the room. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “Good. I need you to support her neck while I get this helmet off of her.”

If Simmons noticed his shaking fingers as he laced them around the back of Skye’s neck, she didn’t comment, and worked around his arms quickly as she unstrapped the helmet from under Skye’s chin. He knew the helmet took the brunt of the damage – that was the point of them – but the damage to it made her injuries seem far worse than they probably were.

“Seizures are bad, right? I mean, even for normal people, seizures mean…” Hunter’s worried voice irked Coulson and he wanted to order the man out of the room, but he knew that he was just concerned about his friend.

“Not necessarily,” Simmons said quickly, focused on her task, but glancing up at Coulson for a second. She was speaking to appease him as well as Hunter. “You said they were very short and infrequent? It sounds to me like concussive convulsions, which happen rather commonly with head injuries. They don’t necessarily indicate permanent brain damage,” Simmons trailed off as she slowly pulled the helmet off of Skye. “Move that pillow so her head is level with her back. We should scan for any neck or spinal injury as well.”

Coulson clenched his jaw as he did what was asked while Simmons set the helmet off to the side and picked up her scanner. He was slow to remove his hands from Skye, afraid he was going to hurt her worse, but Simmons brushed her fingers over his arm lightly as she moved the scanner over Skye’s body, focusing primarily on her head and neck. Coulson relaxed marginally, taking a half step back to give the doctor some space. Just then, the doors opened and Lincoln burst in, eyes wide with concern.

“I’ve got this, can you check on Hunter?” Simmons told him, and he nodded, his eyes on Skye as he helped Hunter out and toward one of the other beds. Coulson felt mildly relieved when it was just the three of them in the room, feeling like he didn’t have to hide as much from Simmons.

“Should she be asleep?” Coulson asked, and Simmons waited until her scan was complete before answering him.

“Miraculously, I only detect some deep bruising and minor cuts, other than her concussion. No bleeding in her brain, that’s very good news.” Simmons reported, setting the scanner to the side and leaning closer toward Skye’s head. “I’ll need to give her something to wake her up,” Simmons warned him, and he nodded. “It might get a little rough in here.”

“I’m not leaving.” He said firmly. Even if it was just to the other side of that glass. Simmons nodded and prepared a syringe, and he stepped closer to the bed again, carefully slipping his hand into Skye’s.

Not long after Simmons emptied the syringe into Skye’s arm, she gasped awake and clenched her fingers hard around Coulson’s. One of the lights in the room blew out, and the abandoned scanner rattled off of the tray and onto the floor.

“Skye! Dear _God_ , Skye,” Coulson breathed out in cautious relief, and Skye’s grip slackened but only slightly.

“Stop the room, I wanna get off,” She groaned, turning a little to the side, and Coulson managed to shift his feet out of the way right before she vomited over the side of the bed. He looked at Simmons in concern, catching her wince.

“Sorry, I should have warned you about the nausea,” She said apologetically to him, and then stepped closer to Skye, pulling a penlight out of her pocket. “Skye, can you look at me please? Do you know where you are right now?”

Skye slowly turned her head in the direction of Simmons’ voice, squinting and flinching slightly when Simmons put her fingers against her skin to hold open her eyelids.

“If you keep blinding me with that I’m gonna throw up again,” Skye moaned, her words a little soft around the edges, as if she’d been getting into Coulson’s bourbon again.

“Pupils are a little slow, but responding as expected. Nausea, sensitivity to light, the blackout – I’d say she’s got a grade 3.” Simmons informed Coulson. He knew that could be pretty bad, remembering friends who got injured while playing football. “Skye, do you remember what happened?” Skye licked her lips very slowly as she thought, her brow furrowing in concentration.

“Hunter and I had a retrieval op.” She finally said, and Coulson nodded encouragingly. Skye blinked, and then looked up at Simmons. “Did I crash?” She asked, and then grew more alarmed. “Was anyone else hurt? Who did I hit? Is Hunter okay?” The scanner started rattling on the floor again as she grew more agitated, and Coulson rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand comfortingly.

“Hunter is being looked after by Lincoln right now, but he’s fine. You didn’t hit anyone, Skye, there aren’t any civilian casualties.” Coulson assured her, and she relaxed completely, sighing.

“Civilian casualties?” She repeated a few seconds later, wanting clarification.

“Do you remember anything about your crash?” Simmons asked, and Skye looked agitated again.

“It _hurts_ ,” She admitted very quietly, closing her eyes tightly. Coulson looked at Simmons and she nodded, assuring him that she would get some pain medication that Skye would be able to take.

“Keep an eye on her for me. Keep her awake. I’ll be right back.” Simmons said to Coulson, who nodded solemnly and looked down at Skye as Simmons left the room. He rested his other hand very carefully against Skye’s cheek, and she bit her lip.

“My bike?” She asked, and he quietly shook his head. She closed her eyes and leaned further against his hand, a few silent tears falling down her face.

 

 

**< ><><> **

Luckily after those first few hours had passed, things seemed to settle down, and Skye’s symptoms didn’t worsen. Coulson left her only long enough to get plans taken care of for Ward; calling some of his contacts in the CIA to come pick him up. He also made sure the object was secured in containment and ready for Fitz to take a look at it. Then he was back in the room next to Skye’s bed, having May deal with the actual handoff of Ward and all the paperwork that entailed. She wasn’t happy about that part, but she at least allowed Coulson his time to focus on Skye, and waited to complain to him about shirking his duties a few days later.

By that time, Skye had improved greatly, and regained the few functions she had lost with the concussion. Lincoln explained her luck having to do both with the helmet she’d been wearing, and her DNA. (He had frowned at that part, curious as to why she had Kree blood in her system, but neither of them revealed anything to him. Simmons didn’t either, when he tried to get it out of her, and Coulson appreciated that.)

A small group gathered in the room to check in on her a couple days after that, and Hunter showed them all her cracked helmet, spinning the story like it was some kind of Evel Knievel stunt. Skye laughed along with them as he presented the helmet to her like it was a trophy, but then Coulson caught her touching her fingers against the sticker on the back of it, an old emblem of the Indian brand, and her eyes welled up with tears.

He carefully urged the others away without making a big deal out of it, and most of them managed to make a graceful exit. Fitz hesitated, and then revealed a rather well-loved stuffed monkey from behind his back, muttering something about him keeping Skye company for a while, if she wanted. Before he could scurry off, she tugged him closer by his arm and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He blushed profusely, but smiled, glancing nervously toward Coulson before disappearing. Coulson made a mental note to thank Fitz with something special, later (but definitely not a real monkey). Out of everyone, Fitz had been the most helpful with Skye regaining her normal brain functions, being so familiar himself with that struggle.

Hunter apologized, obviously his intent hadn’t been to make Skye cry, and she shook her head at him as she sniffed and clutched the stuffed toy closer to her.

“Hunter, you saved my life. You have nothing to apologize to me for.” She assured him, though there were still tears on her cheeks. He looked unsure, and turned his gaze toward Coulson, as if he expected Coulson to admonish him.

“That’s twice now, you’ve brought her back to me.” Coulson said, keeping it at that, and Hunter’s expression softened. He nodded, and then quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Coulson’s hands shook slightly as he carefully took the helmet from Skye’s lap and placed it on the floor next to the bed, but neither of them commented on it. The scuffs on the matte black paint did nothing to hide the giant crack along the back of the helmet, stretching upward behind the ear almost from the base all the way to the top. The cracked visor had been clear-taped, so pieces wouldn’t break further apart and scratch someone. One day, it would look impressive. Right now, it still looked horrifying.

Skye’s hand wrapped around Coulson’s, pulling his attention back toward her, and he sat down on the edge of what had become _his_ chair, propping his elbows on the bedside next to her.

“I really liked that bike.” Skye commented, almost flippantly, except then she looked Coulson in the eyes and he knew she was just trying to be tough. He kissed the back of her hand softly, and she curled up facing him, clutching both Fitz’s stuffed monkey and Coulson’s hand close to her chest.

“I know,” He whispered, and she let out a quiet sob.

 

 

**< ><><> **

Skye was sitting slouched down in the seat, her knees bent against the driver's seat in front of her, tablet in her lap. Tonight was supposed to be game night, and everyone was excited for Skye to join them for her first ‘Friday of Freedom’, as Bobbi had put it. That was one of the reasons why she was hiding in the back of the SUV. There was a light knocking on the passenger side window, and she sighed as she saw that it was Coulson who was opening the door.

"May I join you?" He asked, and she nodded silently, staring at the darkened screen of the tablet. Coulson shut the door softly behind him, and gave her a few moments before adding, "It's been a while since I've seen you hiding in the back of SUVs."

"I'm not hiding." Skye quickly retorted, but she knew she sounded too pouty and it gave away that hiding was exactly what she was doing.

"Skye, no one is judging you," He assured her softly, looking over at her even though she refused to meet his gaze.

"I can't believe I _cried_." She muttered, letting the tablet slide gently to the floorboards beneath her hanging feet.

"You were attached," He reasoned.

"It was a _vehicle_." She said pointedly, finally looking at him. "And an old one at that. It was shiny but it didn't even run all that well all the time."

"But you put time and effort into her," Coulson said gently, as if he was reminding her, "She helped you while you discovered yourself and your powers."

" _Her_ ," Skye laughed dryly, "You sound like you're talking about Lola."

"They were very similar, were they not?" He furrowed his brow slightly. "That's what you told me, before. That the bike reminded you of Lola."

"The bike was an _idea_ of Lola," Skye corrected him, "A possibility." She was quiet for a second. "She _could_ have been Lola, one day. But she wasn't quite there yet..."

Coulson leaned toward her just slightly, resting his left hand on her leg comfortingly. Skye looked down at it, and touched her fingers thoughtfully against the back of it. The skin felt like normal skin, even looked callused and weathered like his other hand. She knew very well about the metal and tech beneath, though. She'd been there when the hand had gotten split open and needed a few repairs done. After Fitz had done all the hard work, she'd sat and watched as a machine worked a laser over the gaping hole in the flesh, slowly repairing it layer by layer. Coulson insisted that there were no nerve endings in the skin here, that it was all for show, so he couldn't feel anything, but she couldn't help worriedly watching over everything very closely.

"It's weird, but, even though you and I never did anything like that together, working on her made me feel like I was closer to you, somehow." Skye admitted quietly. "It wasn't just because it was a good distraction and something fun to do with my hands - it made missing you a little easier to bear."

" _Skye_ ," Coulson leaned toward her, brushing his nose against her cheek as he slid his right arm across her stomach to tug her closer.

"Coulson," Skye smirked a little, lightheartedly pushing at him, tilting her chin up as she tried to avoid his nuzzles. "Coulson, haha, _stop_ , I didn't say that to - I wasn't trying to - _Coulson_ ," Her protests dissolved into a fit of giggles as he didn't let up, scooting closer so he could reach her better and bring his left hand up to wrap around her shoulder.

Ever since the pretty amazing first, second, and third kisses they had shared in Lola, he'd had a difficult time keeping his hands to himself. He was always cool, calm, and collected in public, but whenever they found themselves alone in a room together... Or alone in a car together, it seemed...

"Okay, okay, okay!" Skye finally gave in, pushing against his chest. He sat up a little, with a glint in his eyes. "I'll stop hiding from the team." She promised. He looked pleased at that, and she nudged his shoulder with her own. "Was that your whole plan? To slide in here and pester me until I laughed?" She wondered, brushing her hair away from her face.

"It worked, didn’t it?" He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. She gave him a long look, but then smiled softly, letting him off the hook.

"Yeah, I guess it did," She admitted, and he smiled as well. "Of course, now people are going to think we've been making out in here." She complained, eyeing him sideways.

"Are they?" He frowned as if that surprised him. "I haven't been sitting here long enough for that." He reasoned, and she gave him a challenging look.

"Oh? And how long does that need to be, do you think?"

"Hmm," He considered her seriously. "Fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?!" She exclaimed.

"Why stop at making out?" He asked her, wiggling his eyebrows as he leaned toward her again.

"Oh my _God_ , Coulson," Skye breathed out a laugh again, but then he was kissing her and pulling at her shirt and they were both getting tangled up as they tried to undress one another at the same time. Although Skye had been free to sleep in her own quarters for the past few days (or Coulson’s quarters, rather – she still continued to sneak in), they hadn’t been intimate since the accident. And Coulson never once complained or acted like he wanted anything more than to hold her at night, but she knew that he missed that aspect of their relationship – and she missed it too. Now she felt like they needed to make up for even just a few lost days.

There were lots of painful grunts, stifled giggles, and thumping into things before they managed a workable position, and Skye had to raise her eyebrow coyly at Coulson while he wrapped his fingers around her hips.

"You've been holding out on me, Mr. I'm Not Flexible."

"I'm going to hate myself later," he admitted distractedly, and she pressed her lips against his some more.

"You started it,"

"Oh, I don't hate myself _right now_ ," he assured her as her hand reached between his legs.

 

 

**< ><><> **

"Coulson?"

"Hmm?" He said distractedly, looking up from the budget reports he was reviewing. It was Mack, and Coulson gestured for him to enter the office.

"About that project you had me on; I think I found something," Mack informed him, and Coulson smiled with relief.

"Great." He replied, though sensed there was something else. "But?"

"But, it isn't cheap."

"Does it follow the specifications I gave you?" Coulson asked, and Mack nodded.

"Well, the color is off, but I can fix that easy enough once it comes in." He said, and Coulson nodded.

"Alright then. Do it." Coulson informed him, closing the file in front of him and sliding it into the 'completed' box. Mack shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to get in a row with Coulson about this.

"Do we have the funds for this sort of thing?" Mack asked dubiously, and Coulson smiled carefully.

"Don't worry about that. I have a friend who owes me a favor."

 

 

**< ><><> **

"Coulson, it's the middle of the night, what in the world..." Skye complained, bleary-eyed as Coulson urged her along with his hand in hers, walking them toward the hangar. "Look, the tumble in the car last week was fun, but if _I_ wassore after that than I _know_ you had to be,"

"If this was about sex," Coulson interrupted her quietly, in case some of the others were still around, "I would be leading you to my _room_ , not out here."

"Why in the world would you pull me out of my bed in the middle of the night if it doesn't have anything to do with a mission or with sex?" Skye demanded grouchily.

"I couldn't wait," He admitted apologetically as he opened the door and gestured for her to enter the hangar before him. "Mack sent me an email just after dinner saying that it was finished, but then I was lying there in bed thinking about it and I didn't want to wait until tomorrow to show it to you."

"Coulson, you know you always talk too much when you get nervous around me," Skye informed him affectionately, pressing her cheek against his shoulder as she yawned widely. She felt him stop walking so she stopped too, and opened her eyes. "What is it? New Bus?" She frowned slightly, looking around. No large airplane. His fingers gripped hers a little tighter just as her eyes fell on a familiar - and yet quite unfamiliar - vehicle, parked off to the side, on top of a large tarp.

She blinked, and didn't exactly feel when Coulson's hand slipped from hers as she stepped toward it.

"That's..." She realized her mouth was open in surprise, and she closed it, and turned toward Coulson. "That's...!" Her eyes widened, and he nodded with an anxious and hopeful look on his face. She looked back at the bike, and then back at him. "Is that?" She demanded seriously.

"All yours." He told her. Her eyes widened again and she moved as if she was going toward the bike, but then changed her mind and launched herself at Coulson, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

Before he could hug her back she pulled away again, one hand over her mouth as her eyes welled up. He gave her an encouraging nod and she bounced back toward the bike, carefully contained excitement edging just beneath her skin as she circled it slowly.

"Indian Chief Vintage. Mack found it." Coulson explained, stepping a little closer as she trailed her hand along the curves of the motorcycle, not quite touching it. She was afraid that if she touched it, she would wake up and realize that it wasn't real. "I had him repaint it to match... I hope that's okay?" Skye realized that he was worried, and she looked up at him.

" _Coulson_." She wasn't even sure what to say.

"I know it's not the same," He talked quickly, apologetically, "it's not the bike you spent time on, put in your own blood and sweat into making it run again, but,"

"But underneath that shiny and new exterior, it's still an Indian Chief motorcycle." Skye interrupted him softly, and his resulting smile was slow and warm as he recognized her reference. "Besides," Skye continued offhandedly, giving the bike another look, "I could still work on it. There's always engine repairs and oil changes." She winked at him, and watched him visibly relax. "I could add some upgrades, customize it, make it my own..."

"Might not be able to fit a semi-automatic in the headlight, but I'm sure Mack would love to help you out if you needed it." Coulson replied warmly, and Skye looked at him again.

"I'd actually like _you_ to help me with it. If you want." She revealed, shyly, and he looked surprised but pleased.

"I'd like that." He agreed, and she smiled and jumped at him again, hugging him even tighter than she did the first time. Just as his hands pressed against her back, she pulled away again with a realization. She frowned at him.

"Wait, this _had_ to have not been cheap - where did we get the money -" Coulson gently told her not to worry about it. "But these kind of funds, how are you going to explain to the Council -"

"Skye." Coulson said a little more firmly, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry about it." He smirked a little, and added, "Stark owed me a favor."

" _Stark_ \-- " Skye stopped herself, closing her mouth and leaning her head back a little to give him an incredulous look.

"So... Do you like it?" He asked pensively, and Skye saw his fingers twitch slightly out of nervousness. She made a noise of exclamation and jumped him again, this time wrapping her legs around his waist as her arms slung across his shoulders. He huffed out a breath and stumbled back slightly, but didn't fall or drop her, and gave her a slightly miffed expression.

"I love it. I _love_ it, _I love it_ , let me show you," Skye insisted, kissing him between words. He groaned and wrapped his fingers under her legs to help support her as he blindly shuffled back toward the hallway.

They didn't make it to his room, but they did manage to stumble up the steps near the lab without hurting themselves. Skye lowered her legs so Coulson could release her, and then she urged him toward the lounge. When he started to say something about his office being slightly more private, she groaned but took his hand and dragged him up the steps.

He was surprised when she pushed him toward his desk chair, but sat down heavily without much fight.

"What - what are you - Skye, I didn't do this for - "

"I take your fifteen minutes," Skye interrupted him cheekily, kneeling between his feet and resting her hands on his knees, "And I challenge you ten." She was rewarded with a loud groan as she tugged at the waistband of his sleep pants, and he lifted his hips so she could pull them down to his ankles.

He was quite the talker, she discovered, during this kind of sex, and she was pretty sure _she'd_ never felt so satisfied after a blowjob before.

"I wanted to find that bike for you because I love you, you know. Not just because of sexual favors." Coulson insisted later, after they'd cleaned up and curled around one another on the couch in his office, snuggled under a throw blanket.

"I know," Skye promised, tilting her head up to press a kiss to his jaw. "And I want to give you _sexual favors_ because I love you; not just because you found me a motorcycle."

His arm tightened around her as he chuckled, and she nestled against his chest, both of them settling in. He'd woken her up in the middle of the night, after all. She had to get _some_ sleep before the morning workouts.

 

 

**< ><><> **

They were meeting with a young Inhuman, a teenaged boy who had happened to buy the wrong bottle of Omega-3 Fish Oil pills, and subsequently discovered that he could breathe underwater. He was panicking, freaking out that anyone who looked at him would immediately be able to tell that he was different, that he was no longer human. So Skye told him a story, calming him down with her voice, earning his curiosity, eventually gaining his trust.

“I once had this motorcycle. Really old bike, like, _grandad old_.” Her joking tone got a partial smile out of the boy, and Coulson relaxed and stepped away a little to give them some privacy. He stayed within earshot of course, both for her safety and out of curiosity.

“I fixed it up; made it look good, worked on the engine. It wasn’t perfect but man, it had heart. Have you ever seen an old car, a bit run down or rough around the edges, and you think _man, I bet that used to be something._ You look at it and you can almost _feel_ it wanting to return to its former glory?” He imagined she was speaking from the point of view of her powers, which was amazing, and he wondered if Lola spoke to her in the same way other things did.

“Yeah.” The boy, Tyler, said quietly. He seemed a little calmer, though he was still wringing his hands anxiously.

“One thing you have to accept if you start riding a motorcycle – it’s not _if_ you’ll crash, it’s _when_.” Skye advised him, and his nod was serious. “I only wrecked that bike once, but that was all it took. Totaled.”

“That sucks.” Tyler said as consolingly as a teenager knew how to be.

“I was pretty bummed about it.” Skye admitted. “But after some time, I had my motorcycle again. He was the same, but he was also brand new. So much of the design is exactly like he used to be, but he’s faster. Shinier. Tougher.” Skye grinned a little at Tyler, then glanced at Coulson.

Especially tougher with the Vibranium coating Fitz was able to create, and the bulletproof windshield she and Coulson had replaced the glass one with.

“Me and my friend here,” She gestured her chin toward Coulson, and Tyler only spared him an uneasy glance, “We added some really cool things. You’ve seen what I can do. The bike is able to handle my abilities without coming apart, even if I were to accidentally lose control while riding.”

“Has that ever happened before?” Tyler asked with equal parts alarm and interest. Coulson slipped his hands into his pockets, glad he still had his aviators on. Skye could probably read his emotions through his vibrations, but at least the boy wouldn’t see the emotion he suddenly felt.

“No,” Skye said with a soft smile, “I’ve had a lot of practice learning about my ability, and I have wonderful people who’ve helped me along the way.”

“And… these people can help me, too?” Tyler asked carefully, far less anxious now, but trying to hide his growing comfort in the idea.

Coulson inwardly smiled. Leave it to Skye to use a motorcycle to gain the trust of a teenager, and get him to open up about his powers.

“Yes, if you’d like us to. And I’ll be here for you, too.” Skye assured him. “You won’t be turned into just some number in a huge list of people.”

After another half hour of talking with him, Tyler told them he’d be interested in visiting their new Caterpillar base, and learning more about his powers. Coulson didn’t have to be able to read vibrations to see that Skye was really excited – this was their first Caterpillar op since he suggested the idea to her, and having it end well was really encouraging.

“Your new bike,” Tyler spoke up just before they left, standing in the doorway of his home, “is it better than it used to be before the accident? I mean, to _you_?” It was obvious that he wasn’t asking about the bike’s specs; he was asking about how she felt about it.

“Yeah,” Skye replied, getting a kind of faraway smile on her face for a moment, “it is.”

Coulson left Tyler a card that included both his number and Skye’s, and the boy even shook his hand after he took it.

“He likes you.” Skye commented as they drove away in the SUV. Coulson raised his eyebrow above the edge of his sunglasses.

“Does he.” Coulson replied dubiously. “I don’t think he was too focused on me, especially once you started talking about motorcycles.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have a complete profile on him within the first two minutes of meeting him,” Skye teased, and Coulson grinned a little proudly at her observation.

“I wouldn’t say a _complete_ profile,” He amended, and then said more seriously, “But he did identify your story about the bike with accepting his abilities. You did a good job back there. It’s not easy getting a teenager to accept their differences to begin with – you managed an Inhuman like a pro.”

“Well, Raina did say I was born to lead.” Skye replied dryly, shaking her head a little. Coulson reached over and took her hand in his, without taking his eyes off the road.

“You remember what I told you when we first met? One of the first operations we did together?” Coulson said, and Skye sighed, pretending to be annoyed with him.

“ _Yes_ , Mr Miyagi.” He didn’t have to look at her to know that she rolled her eyes.

“I said you'd be good at this, and you _are_ good at this.” He continued.

“Complete profile on me only took you a few days,” Skye teased him, and he looked over at her after stopping at a stop sign.

“I still haven’t figured you out yet, Daisy Johnson.” Coulson told her, and she gave him a crooked smile at his use of her code name.

“I always knew you were a flirt, though,” She informed him, leaning in and kissing him. He smiled against her lips, and faced front again so he could drive them back to base. Five minutes of silence went by before he broke it,

“So, just wondering, I’m the motorcycle in the story, right?” He glanced over at her, and she turned her head slowly toward him, raising her eyebrow coyly.


End file.
